


on health matters

by GingerMint



Category: Naruto
Genre: Aftercare, Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, You could say it's not entirely non-consensual, but it's not entirely consensual either, so I am not taking any risks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerMint/pseuds/GingerMint
Summary: If Tobirama wanted to behave like a brat, then Madara was going to treat him like a brat.





	on health matters

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be sexy. But I had never tried to write sexy before, so I am sorry if it turned out weird. I mostly write fluff. This is also my first time writing "adults" (still in their twenties, though, but you get me), so I also apologize if their behavior is more of a pair of teenagers. 
> 
> This is a pairing I grew to love because of the beautiful writing of the author raendown. If you are here reading this pairing, you very probably already know her. I got inspiration for this by sending her an ask in tumblr.
> 
> I hope I don't disappoint anyone with this attempt at writing. But I had lots of fun, so I regret nothing.
> 
> Also, english is not my native language. So, some things might be funny in this.

Madara was just barely halfway through his breathing exercises when Tobirama finally walked into their bedroom, his steps heavy with annoyance. He didn’t even spare Madara a single glance as he dragged his feet to his side of the bed, and even turned his head away as soon as Madara tried to get a better look at his face. Madara forced himself to take one more very deep breath before speaking.

“Let me see,” He said, trying really hard not to grit his teeth. He failed.

It wasn’t his fault. It was instinctual, and the only way he knew not to let his voice waver when he was too angry. It had nothing to do with worriedness.

His hands started to ball into fists when minutes passed by and Tobirama still did not deign to look at him or even make the smallest of sounds. He was too busy rummaging through the bedside drawers, looking for what Madara had very understandably thrown away as soon as he had gotten there that afternoon.

Tobirama was far from oblivious. There was no way Madara was going to believe that he was genuinely expecting to find his weird seeds after the idiot had just fallen unconscious right under his nose barely an hour ago. No. Tobirama understood perfectly what the faith of those stupid stimulant pieces of shit had been. He was just too stubborn to accept it.

“Tobirama,” Madara said, lowering his voice, adding just a slight tint of menace to it. “Get your ass into the bed. Now.”

The rustling stopped for one second, and Tobirama’s shoulders tensed visibly. He tilted his head almost imperceptibly to one side, and Madara could picture perfectly his narrowed eyes, full of disbelief at recognizing the tone Madara had just used on him. The tone any of them would usually use to scold Kagami.

“Now, Tobirama,” He repeated, this time between his teeth.

Tobirama finally turned his head around.

And Madara almost lost it as soon as he was met with the sight of the asshole holding his bloodied lip between his teeth, not giving the slightest shit about the sutures his brother had just very carefully stitched for him. It was something Tobirama always did not to _pout_ , which meant he was very displeased. More importantly, it meant he wanted Madara to _know_ he was angry at him.

Madara’s blood started to burn beneath his skin, and he felt the heat slowly crawling up to his neck. Looking at the dark, deep circles that lurked under Tobirama’s eyes didn’t help at all. Nor did noticing the way he was struggling against his fluttering eyelids, and the big effort he was putting into glaring at him with his those stupidly pretty red eyes of his. Eyes that were ablaze with misplaced outrage.

“What could possibly make you think _you_ are the one with the right to be offended, Senju?” Madara hissed, stomping his way around the bed. “You _fainted_. And slammed your head against the kitchen countertop. I am the one who gets to be furious, not you.”

Tobirama’s glare followed him, but he remained in silence. At first Madara thought he was just being a brat, but as soon as he was standing next to him, he realized that Tobirama’s eyes were slightly clouded with the characteristic haze of drug-induced sleep. That didn’t stop him from trying to set Madara in fire with his look, though. It only meant he was doing a real effort to manage it.

It took him some more seconds to put together the words in his mind.

“You had _no reason_ ,” Tobirama muttered, showing him his teeth. “To get Anija involved in this. None.”

Oh.

So _that_ was what was bothering him.

Madara had to admit, he’d never thought he would see Hashirama anything close to _annoyed_ at his baby brother. Let alone angry. It’d been a little bit unsettling.

He didn’t even want to imagine how things would have gone if Hashirama had found out about the incident by himself.

“This might be shocking for you,” Madara said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “But I do appreciate my life. And Izuna’s. I wasn’t about to risk it all by playing secrecy with you and eventually awakening the ire of that buffoon. I won’t be an accomplice of your unhealthy, self-destructive researching habits.”

“I don’t need you to be an _accomplice,_ ” Tobirama hissed. “I need you to leave me the fuck alone, Uchiha. I can take care of myself.”

It sounded more like the statement of a petulant child rather than any of the snarky, smart remarks that were characteristic of a well-rested and fed Tobirama. He was irritated. He’d been all week. It reminded Madara a lot of Izuna when he was younger, when he would scream and cry and behave like the spawn of devil out of nowhere only to remind everyone that he desperately needed to be put down for a nap.

Izuna had always needed as much sleep as a cat did, though. He still did.

Not that that justified his rare but still occurring temper tantrums.

“Well, prove it,” Madara said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t fight the muscle relaxant, Tobirama. Just go to sleep. You won’t find those stupid exotic seeds, I got rid of them.”

Tobirama blinked at him in annoyance, as if trying to dissipate the fogginess in his mind. Then he went back to noisily moving everything inside the drawer with sluggish hands, something more similar to a pout starting to make its way to his frowned lips. Madara pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Look. I don’t know if what your brother gave you to sleep also tends to induce bouts of stupidity, but I already told you—”

He almost choked on his words when he noticed that a triumphant smile now graced Tobirama’s face, very similar to the one that always meant trouble in the battlefield. Madara was throwing himself at him before he could think twice, and Tobirama went down to the floor with him. Which would have never happened that easily, hadn’t he been in such a lame condition.

Tobirama struggled, but his erratic movements weren’t enough against Madara’s precise ones, and he was pinned to the floor with Madara on top of him in seconds.

“ _Let go of it_ ,” Madara growled, clasping Tobirama’s closed fist and trying to pry his fingers away from the little scroll he was so desperately trying to protect. “You have already had enough of these for a lifetime. You are not taking a single one more.”

“I wouldn’t need them if you hadn’t called my brother to come and _drug me_ ,” Tobirama snarled back, tightening his grip around the scroll so much that his fingertips turned even paler. “Actually, if you had only _fucked off_ like I calmly asked you to, by now I would most likely be over with today’s experiment. And I wouldn’t have to go back to the lab.”

“I am warning you, Tobirama—” Madara shifted his weight when Tobirama started squirming, restricting his movements where he was straddling his waist. “I am running out of patience. And you are not going to like what I am going to do if that happens.”

“Bite me.”

Madara actually considered that for one second.

And that was enough time for Tobirama to perform the single seal he needed. Before Madara could blink, _he_ was the one falling face first against the floor as the body under him _s_ hunshined away and made him lose his balance.

Tobirama didn’t make it that far, though. Of course he didn’t. Even after Madara lost several precious seconds scrambling to his feet and regaining his dignity, he still managed to tackle Tobirama against one of the walls before he could leave the room.

He pressed the younger man against the surface with his own body, and this time Tobirama was in no condition to try and put up a battle. He was still panting from the small effort he’d just made. Madara managed to snatch the scroll away from him without further fuss, and then he proceeded to use one hand sign and blow the smallest thread of fire he could produce on it.

 “Asshole,” Tobirama muttered, in between the small elaborated puffs of air leaving his lips. It would have made Madara smile in any other situation, but by then he had just had enough. He shook his hand to get rid of the ashes that were left on his gloves and then he brushed his lips against Tobirama’s closest ear.

“Last chance,” He whispered. “Sleep.”

“You will have to suffocate me with the pillow first.”

That was it.

“Very well, then,” Madara said.

And then he raised his hand high in the air and, before Tobirama could gather enough air to say anything else, he brought it down on the younger man’s ass. _Hard._

Very few things could startle Tobirama Senju.

So saying that it wasn’t _satisfying_ to feel him jolting in surprise would be a blatant lie. The gasp that escaped his lips was almost like music for Madara’s ears. It was all the reassurance he needed to repeat the action, and this time it earned him a delightful _whine_. Which Tobirama immediately muffled it by turning his head away and pressing his face against his own shoulder.

“What the hell, Mad—” Another slap made him interrupt himself, only so he could bite down on his lip. A desperate attempt to drown any other sound.

Madara was not having any of that.

“Let go of your lip,” He commanded, hand coming down yet again in a lot louder smack that had Tobirama squeezing his eyes shut and bumping his forehead against the wall. “It is wounded, you idiot. You are going to rip the stitches open.”

“It _hurts_ , Madara,” Tobirama grunted, breathing through his nose.

“It is supposed to,” Madara said, raising both eyebrows though Tobirama couldn’t see him. “But this can’t be any worse than the all suffering you put your body through this whole week, you idiot.”

“I am not a ch—” Madara landed another smack.

“Then stop behaving like it.”

Tobirama grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but at least obeyed and stopped pulling on his already abused lip. Madara decided to stop for a second to demonstrate his approval and made use of that chance to sneak his hands to Tobirama’s front and start undoing his trousers.

“Don’t you—” Tobirama started, his whole body tensing against Madara’s, but Madara shushed him with a gentle whisper.

“I need to see,” He explained, brushing his lips against Tobirama’s cheek and sending a shiver down his spine. The younger man’s muscles relaxed with that simple gesture. “You are still in trouble. But that doesn’t mean I am willing to overdo it.”

Madara hooked his fingers into the waistband of Tobirama’s trousers and tugged them down along with his underwear, slowly exposing milky white skin that was already tinged a slight tone of pink in some places. He sighed as he recognized the very distinguishable shape of his hand. Maybe he’d been a tiny bit too angry at the beginning.

Realizing that Tobirama seemed too busy trying to focus so he could take in what was happening as to try and break his nose, Madara allowed himself to relax his grip on him so he could remove one of his gloves. As soon as he did, he then ran his bare fingertips over the reddened skin, making Tobirama start once more.

“I am not doing anything. Stay still,” Madara chided, though he understood that this time it was not a negative reaction when noticed the small bumps rising on Tobirama’s skin, following the path his fingers were tracing. He had to suppress a chuckle. “I wouldn’t get so excited. You’re not ready to be rewarded yet.”

He then splayed his fingers and proceeded to rub gently to soothe some of the sting, managing to get Tobirama to practically melt against the wall. Muscle relaxant seemed to finally be winning the battle.

But Madara knew Tobirama too well as to fool himself by thinking that that sudden docility would last for more than a day. And he couldn’t have Hashirama coming over every day to force sleeping medicine in him.

He rose his hand and delivered another smack that, in spite of being considerably less sharp as the previous ones, still had Tobirama yelping loudly. This time, he craned his neck so he could send a murderous glare Madara’s way, eyebrows drawn so close together they could have been one.

The noise was way more _interesting_ now that there wasn’t any fabric standing between his hand and Tobirama’s rear, Madara had to say.

“You had _many_ chances to go to sleep before,” Madara said. “You can wait some minutes more. Until I am sure you have learned your _lesson._ ”

Madara managed to give Tobirama’s ass one more smack before the younger man gathered enough strength to tackle him back with one of his shoulders. Kind of. It was more of a shove, but it took Madara by surprise.

When Madara finally regained his wits, and just as he was about to throw Tobirama over one of his shoulders, he found himself being pinned against the wall. In a significantly weak grip. He could have gotten out of it, hadn’t Tobirama decided to forget about his swollen lip and attack Madara’s mouth in that very same moment.

It was a sloppy kiss. Not nearly as fierce as Tobirama’s usual ones. But still, Madara could perceive the effort his partner was putting into it, even through the fogginess that still clouded his mind, so he indulged in it and allowed him to be in charge for a few seconds. Then Tobirama bit down on his lip, _viciously,_ and Madara was the one to squeak in utter outrage.

After taking some seconds to appreciate Tobirama’s stupidly pretty contented smile, he finally put an end to that little scene by grabbing Tobirama by the back of his neck and walking him to the bed.

He stopped by his side of the bed and rummaged under his pillow. What he retrieved made Tobirama hold his breath and tense up again, though this time he didn’t try to break free from his hold. He only contemplated the instrument with apprehension and looked accusingly at Madara.

“You had this planned all along,” He muttered. “Bastard.”

“Language,” Madara chided. “I was only prepared. I was ready to shrug the idea off if you decided to behave for once. But, as I imagined it would happen, you’re just way too _mulish_ to ever allow anything go the easy way.”

The rattan cane he’d brought along was not severe at all, unlike the ones that were used to punish the gravest faults from the adults of the clan. He’d banned the usage of corporal punishment on any Uchiha minors as soon as he’d become the head, but the problem he’d faced after that was that ninja were already considered adults by around the age of twelve.

Uchiha children were usually very well behaved, but there were always exceptions. Genin who insisted on taking unnecessary risks in their missions, constantly putting their lives in danger. Chunnin who were following the wrong path, a dark one, particularly susceptible to the Uchiha’s Curse of Hatred. Two or three strikes tended to be enough to put them back in line.

But Madara refused to let them suffer anything close to the pain real adults endured for crimes like murder. That was why the cane he’d chosen in particular for that day was light, short and very flexible, designed precisely to discipline the youngest. Only sharp enough to sting for a few days, without leaving mark. Only uncomfortable enough to make kids want to avoid it.

He’d already used it on Kagami once. And Tobirama had found about immediately after, when the little shit had decided to present to training with traces of tears all over his face, which were more due to a deep feeling of guilt than actual pain.

Tobirama had still proceeded to use that very same cane on Madara, of course.

Madara had decided to leave Kagami’s discipline to Tobirama from that day, even though he couldn’t say he hadn’t enjoyed that experience.

“You remember your word, right?” Madara said, while he sat dawn on the edge of the bed and tugged Tobirama along. He followed without making a fuss, though a faint blush covered his cheeks. His lips were frowned in a real pout now. “The same as always.”

“Are you insinuating I can’t take it in the same way you did?” Tobirama growled, while he grumpily allowed Madara to guide him to lie across his lap. He was stiff and his skin was also burning. Madara rubbed one hand between his shoulder blades to try and get him to loosen up.

“You made me remember I can use my word too.”

 “Shut up and get to it, Uchiha.” Tobirama said, lips pursed. “I can take a punishment.”

Madara nodded for himself, eyebrows arched. Well. Someone was in a mood.

“You are getting three,” Madara said calmly, while he gently pulled Tobirama’s trousers and underwear further down, just below his thighs. He felt something pressing against his own thigh and had to suppress a snort. “Just like children.”

“I don’t need to be treated like a—”

A swift flick of Madara’s wrist had Tobirama going immediately silent and curling his toes against the wooden floor. A small line decorated now the skin of his ass, a pretty shade of red. Madara waited for a few seconds for a reaction, for any sound, for a curse or anything that could indicate him something was going wrong.

But Tobirama only pressed his face against the mattress, without bothering into finishing his last sentence. He was probably thinking very differently now than the second before the first stroke.

“Next time you are told go to sleep,” Madara said, using the thumb of his free hand to caress Tobirama’s thigh and give it a comforting squeeze. “And to have your meals, you _do it_ before reaching the point of passing out from exhaustion.”

He brought the cane down again, and this time it drew a whimper out of the younger man. Madara shushed him and took a deep breath, making another pause to wait for any signal. After not receiving anything, he proceeded.

“Your brother is going to be informed of every single time you decide to behave like a brat and not take care of yourself,” Madara continued. “So, if him finding out about it annoys you so much, I’d suggest changing your attitude towards your own health. Understood?”

He delivered the last strike, and Tobirama jumped on his lap. Madara didn’t miss the groan he tried to muffle against the covers as he put away the cane, but still he didn’t hesitate into adding one more slap with his bare hand.

“ _Understood?_ ” He repeated, leaning down so he could press his lips against Tobirama’s sweaty temple. The man only nodded with his head, without producing any other sound. Madara smiled, content with the answer. “Very good. You did _so good.”_

Tobirama made then another sound. A _very different_ sound from all the others. It made heat pool low in Madara’s belly as much as feeling Tobirama’s enthusiasm against his leg did.

However, as Tobirama tried to get up, Madara pressed firmly on his lower back to push him back down. It elicited a frustrated groan from Tobirama, but Madara didn’t mind.

“ _We_ are not engaging into any other sort of activities until I have rubbed some ointment on your ass,” Madara said. “So, hold your horses, Senju.”

He wasn’t so sure Hashirama would exactly _approve_ of any of the activities they had engaged on since the moment he left. But, well.

If the muscle relaxants weren’t going to get Tobirama to sleep, he surely knew what undoubtedly would. 

 

“It truly _hurt,_ you asshole.”

A well-rested Tobirama didn’t always necessarily mean an unsulky Tobirama. Madara sighed and sluggishly opened his eyes, trying to focus on the pretty, wide-awake, accusing red eyes that were already looking straight into his. He had to contain a groan.

“It is too early in the morning for this,” Madara whined, though he did rub his eyes so he could dissipate the sleep fogginess and look at Tobirama’s ass to better assess the damage with the daylight’s help. The ointment had done a good job. The three red stripes had faded into faint pink lines, and though the skin around still looked irritated, nothing was swollen.

There was only one small red dot that did draw Madara’s attention, on top of Tobirama’s right buttock, near his hip. That was indeed slightly swollen and looked like it had the potential to evolve into a slight bruise, but Madara was sure he hadn’t done that. He brushed his thumb over the small puncture, and in turn Tobirama hissed and shied away from his touch at the same time he sank one elbow in Madara’s stomach, knocking the air out of him. Well. It was good to know part of his strength was also back.

“Hashirama injected you,” Madara wheezed, after trying to recover his breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I think it is obvious enough I wasn’t going to take a muscle relaxant _willingly_.” Tobirama grunted, pressing his cheek against Madara’s chest. “And Anija can be mean when he proposes. He wasn’t gentle at all. He even took the opportunity to mix the solution with vitamins, which means it hurt like hell.”

“Well,” Madara said, while he slowly put his hand back on Tobirama’s skin, as far from the dot as he could. “I bet you didn’t put it any easy for him to be gentle either. And you do need vitamins, after so many days ingesting only those stupid caffeine full seeds and tea.”

Madara ventured his hand up to the injection site again, and Tobirama tensed. He pressed firmly three fingers against it, and Tobirama muffled a whine against his skin, but then he started rubbing and Tobirama eventually melted against him again.

“But why didn’t you say _anything?_ I would have stopped. You know it.”

Tobirama shrugged, sighing happily under his ministrations. Madara could get his skin to get really warm only by concentrating some chakra on a specific zone, and that could come in handy to soothe pain sometimes.

“I don’t know,” Tobirama said, eyelids fluttering closed again. “I guess I thought it would be really interesting to see how you try to explain Anija the marks on my skin.”

That stopped Madara in his tracks.

“—why would Hashirama see the marks?” He mumbled, feeling the cold fingers of dread start to crawl up his back.

Tobirama opened one eye to look at him, evidently annoyed because he was not rubbing anymore.

“He’s coming over later today to inject me again. More vitamins,” Tobirama said, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Tobirama’s amused smile indicated Madara that _he_ was the one supposed to tell him about that small detail.

He was a dead man.


End file.
